Accepting the Face in the Mirror
I was in my early 50s when I went to South Korea to visit my daughter who was teaching English at Yeugnam University in Taegu.
We were invited to the home of the head of her department and served soju, a drink guaranteed to make you believe you’re the smartest primate on the planet until you try to stand up. I focused all my concentration on walking a straight line to their car, trying not to embarrass myself or my daughter, and we were whisked away to a famous fish restaurant for dinner.
Blowfish is poisonous. It must be expertly prepared for consumption so as not to prove lethal. We were seated on cushions on the floor in a private room at a table that appeared to be far too large for the four of us until the food started coming. Our honorable host had ordered in advance. We had raw blowfish soup, blowfish tempura, and blowfish sashimi. That aquatic menace was also served to us steamed and deep-fried. But the ultimate test, the one I willed my stomach not to reject, was blowfish skin salad.
Of course, there were side dishes, too many to count, and every morsel on that table was offered to me. I’d done my homework on cultural dos and don’ts and knew better than to decline. Throughout a sleepless night, my stomach gurgled and churned but I survived. The next day we were scheduled for lunch with one of the students my daughter tutored.
The Importance of Appearance
The girl’s mother was 39 and stunning. Her skin had the flawless perfection of an airbrushed photograph. We were barely seated in the restaurant when she began a conversation about the importance of appearance. I was shocked to learn that she had already had multiple cosmetic surgeries. She turned to me and frowned. “You should, too,” she said.
I may have stammered a response, but my internal dialogue was far more memorable. Who? Me? People are surprised when I tell them my age. They think I’m ten years younger. I like the crinkles around my eyes and the laugh lines. Cosmetic surgery? Really? Never!
I have no clue what we had for lunch.
The Face Is What the World Sees and Judges
We learn early on how to smile at the appropriate times, regulate the emotions that want to contort our features, apply enhancements to accentuate the positive whether it be mascara to showcase exotic eyes, or lipstick.
As years passed, I didn’t give that episode much thought other than a story now and then to entertain friends.
But now, when I look in the mirror, the person who stares back is almost a stranger to me. After 60, changes happen fast. The body can be dressed, disguised, and hidden. But there seems to be no way to mentally prepare for the way time morphs a face.
In the remote farming community where I’ve come to retire, I’m surrounded by an elderly population. Creased and leathery from hard work in all kinds of weather, any exposed skin wears age like a badge of honor. No one would dream of going under the knife to chase youth. But what if I worked in a metropolitan area? What if I still had my interior design studio and high-profile clients? How tempted would I be to erase the ravages of time as much as possible?
Changes Are Inevitable and Accepting Them Is Freeing
I admire women who are still going strong in the workplace well into their 60s and 70s. Whatever they decide to do to retain their power and vitality in a social system where youth is deified, is a decision only they can make. I can’t say for certain what I would do if I were competing with women half my age for a position in the job market.
But, at some point, isn’t it time to relax, take off the mask, and embody who we have become? I’ve found immense freedom in being exactly who I am, saying what I mean, and doing what I want without worrying about what all that looks like. I’ve come to terms with the unglamorous transformations happening to my body, and I’ve (somewhat grudgingly) accepted the time-worn face in my mirror.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
Who do you see when you look in the mirror? Have you come to accept the wrinkles and lines? Or have you decided to go the plastic surgery route? Is there wisdom in either choice?
Tags Getting Older
I tried going grey. I could not get used to it. I gave it about 2 years and started coloring again. Now I do my own “highlights” covering most of the obvious gray with blonde. I work with people 1/3 my age. They are appreciative of my wisdom but I always make sure my make up is on and my hair is blown out so I don’t feel 100% invisible. I say you do you. If you want to go dye/makeup free, enjoy.. but allow me to enjoy my makeup hair color and anything else that helps me feel good! 😊
An ancient guru, disheveled in tattered robes, sits in lotus pose with eyes closed. A reverent crowd awaits his words of wisdom. Older women in our culture aren’t taken seriously unless we are well ‘put together’ and look strong and, well… mean! Just kidding about the mean part. Keep doing what you’re doing to be heard and seen!
As a society we need to look for a different kind of beauty in aging … in the wrinkles. They are expressive of what we have lived. If only we could read faces as the wise do. Whole lives would be respectfully visible in plain sight.
The wrinkles do tell their stories.
Are we chasing youth, or are we softening the ravages of time?
I keep an open mind. You’re right. After 60 aging accelerates in all ways. I personally like to keep harsh lines and crevices softened. It’s for me. Not for anyone else. I didn’t like how I looked when I was young. I had buck teeth, acne, wore a pixie haircut, and dressed like a boy so my enlarged breasts didn’t poke through my shirt in 4th grade. I had body and face image issues most of my life. Today I do what I can to lessen the harsh signs of aging. Aging gracefully is my goal.
Thanks for your comments, Patti. Aging is a very personal thing. It’s like a sucker punch to the whole body and it seems nobody is prepared for the rapid changes that take place. Each one of us has to cope in our own way. Unfortunately, I think far too many of us suffered body and face image issues in our youth. So let’s ROCK OLD AGE!
I always say they just don’t make mirrors like they used to! Societal pressures for women seem to dictate that we need all these improvements in how we look, the makeup, the coloured hair and anything else to hang onto the illusion of youth. I am working on letting all that go and accepting what is. I do sometimes get the feeling I’m invisible and irrelevant now, and need to draw on my own counsel for that. My hair is now grey and fortunately very healthy. No more itchy scalp for days when I had it coloured. No more expensive endeavours to find the right makeup that never made me look like the models. What’s important to me now is to try and be as healthy as possible so I can do the things I want to as much as possible. I do try and present myself as nicely as I can, but in a way that is comfortable to me.
As difficult as it is to let the illusion go, it’s wise to do so. Chasing eternal youth is a race we can’t win. We older women have much to offer if we can embrace each change and grow with it.
Right on brenda!!!!…
I can tell you what it’s like to be a corporate, to pitch for work, apply for contracts and work in a highly competitive workforce at 63.
It’s actually shit.
I’m keeping it real and simple because it is more than a face, it’s more than skin, it’s more than clothes, it’s more than eyebrows, it’s just more on every level!
There isn’t a weekday morning that I don’t look at my face in the mirror and it looks squarely back at me, with eyes that say ‘should I do it?’
Botox, fillers, enhancements, derma this and it, will it work for me? Maybe it will, maybe it won’t.
Integrity, self esteem, self worth and loving yourself and your life everyday single day will help. It’s taken a long time for me to even think about commenting. No cosmetic procedure will ever give you or me what I’ve just written.
Anyway, it’s early Monday morning and I’ll be doing it again shortly.
I love the work I do, technology project, change and risk management, currently contracting in the tietiary sector.
Thanks for reading.
Thanks for your comments and your willingness to be vulnerable with your truth. Frankly, it sounds like a nightmare and I question why you soldier on in spite of the fact that ‘it’s actually shit.’ You’re 63. In your prime. What would thrill you, Lyn? Now is the time to do it. When I realized in my late 50s that I was simply marking time, waiting to die, it terrified me into making huge changes. I had no idea such happiness as I’ve experienced since even existed. I want that for you.